For, to the wind, they sow, and, to the whirlwind, they reap: stalk, hath it none, That which shooteth forth, shall yield no meal, If so be it yield, foreigners, swallow it lip,

For the calves of Beth-Aven fear do inhabitants of Samaria, Surely mourned on account of it hath its people, And its priests on account of it leap about, Because of its honour, for it hath removed from it,